THE COLLARING CEREMONY OF CAIS - DUNNISUROM
Cais knelt in the ante-chamber on the submissive side of the Sattvan cathedral. The wedding ordeal was upon him, and he felt a wild, awful tension in his cock as it strained at the cage the Dame Listily held him in.
He wore healed boots that hurt to walk in but came up over his knees to pad them for kneeling, a pink blouse and jacket that came down to his navel. His hands were behind his back, cuffs at the wrists binding them together.
As the alcove for the submissives, the room was done in pinks and floral patterns in the stained glass windows. Images of conquered queens kneeling before the cocks of soldiers, mouths open or tied over a tressel, their bare bottoms helplessly awaiting the men's pleasure. He heard motion at the door. OH! Was it starting! Now?
His eyes darted to where the chamber opened and he saw his mother--dressed in a fine robe enter and stand over him. He blushed badly--but summoned up a snarl.
"Mother," he nodded.
She took in his glare and her lips turned up in a faint smile. "I'm glad to see you've a bit of defiance, Cais. It'll make the ceremony all the sweeter."
She swept forward and knelt, taking a key to his masturbation cage and undoing it. She carefully pulled and extracted the anal plug from his bottom, wrapping it in a cloth for later.
He groaned as it came out with what felt like a loud pop.
"I suppose this is victory for you," he groaned. She wiped his anus gently.
"Not like it is with daughters," she said. "But, yes: I think seeing my proud accomplished son humbled will be a kind of victory--a sweet one." She kissed his temple. "You'll survive this as I survived my own union."
Guhh. He wanted to scream at her--but he knew better. Ugh. Well, he was going to have to get this over with. Whatever it was. He'd practiced the Union ceremony and it had been awful--the march up the aisle, pulled by his erect cock--the ceremony--and the dance floor spanking which, if the planner had done her work right, would drive him to orgasm over the Dame's lap. A dreadful utter humiliation in front of everyone.
But the collaring ceremony was still something of a mystery. The Dame and her maids of honor--his sisters--had practiced something--but he hadn't.
"The best advice I can give you is just to accept it," his mother said. "Accept that you will be degraded and humiliated through this and that your place is below your mate--this will cement it. Embrace it. Everyone here means you well."
He sniffled. She was lubricating one of the awful cock-root suppositories. It would leave him throbbingly needy--punishingly erect--for hours. It would make spending almost impossible until the end when they would use a stimulant artifact on his anus and the prostate inside.
He gasped as she pushed the lubricated object in--penetrating his anus. His cock sprang erect of its own accord and he let out a soft moan. He'd been ordered to moan--not grunt--to vocalize like a girl.
His mother rubbed his buttocks. "I think we're ready. I can stand you--but it'll hurt a great deal--or I can lead you to the door and you can shuffle on your knees."
Ugh--oh--! He could feel an unpleasant, powerful warmth starting to spread inside his region from the suppository. "Shuffle," he said through gritted teeth. She gave him a pat on his buttocks.
His cock jutting out and swinging slightly, he began to shuffle towards the door. His testicles felt like they were slightly swollen--his cock jerked as he approached the door, waddling ridiculously on his knees. Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!
The door pulled back. Marigold, his eldest sister, stood there in a pastel dress, looming over him. Oh!
"You look adorable," she told him.
"Thanks," he said sarcastically. He could feel heat on his face. She looked lovely, put together--adult.
"My own ceremony was a nightmare," she informed him. "I have a servant spend me the memories of it at times."
He looked away. His blush had to be catastrophic.
"Put your forehead down and crawl with your head lowered," she instructed. "I'll help you."
"How?" He gasped. He could see the long hall done in fine wood with hung oil paintings along it. He lowered his head to the thick carpet. Pow! She smacked his buttocks with a small round paddle. He cried out in surprise.
"Encouragement!" she laughed. POW! POW! POP! He heard women's laughter from the far chamber. Oh! ow! UGH!!
He crawled, drawing one knee forward then the other. POW! POW! SMACK!
"I'm going!" he cried out.
"I know! I'm encouraging you! Also enjoying spanking you." SMACK!
ugh--oh--ow!
He picked up the pace. Whap! WHAP!
"MARIGOLD!" He cried out.
SMACK! "Crawl," she ordered. "I have some cream that can make the sting worse!"
Oh, ugh!! He didn't want that. He crawled forward, tears stinging his eyes. Ahead was the threshold. Pow! Smack! He could smell female oil in the chamber. He heard gales of laughter from the girls. Anger flared in him--SMACK! The pain of the paddle-stroke was a bright flash that suppressed his fury as he crawled into the room.
It was large and octagonal opening with three arches on the far side to the grand cathedral--empty now. The girls--Dame Listily, Virona, his second older sister Hargaret--all lounged on cushioned seats. They held glasses of bubbling wine.
"There he is! Oh! Cais, you're so cute!"
"Brother! You've never looked more fetching!"
"Those eyes--so beautiful with tears sparkling in them!"
His skin flushed with the embarrassment. He looked up at his bride--the Dame Knight.
She looked down on him--with favor, he saw. There might even be sympathy--but she was unquestioningly enjoying this--as was her right.
He crawled to her, coming between her knees. The pale pink dress she wore looked liquid in the lamp-light.
She stroked her fingers through his hair.
"This is our collaring ceremony," she said--quoting from the script. "You are to embrace your position as my beloved property--gift yourself--your mind, tongue, cock, scrotum, anus, and all else to me as your mistress, owner, and True Light."
He shuddered.
"I will discard your pride, for it does not serve you. I will grow humility in the garden of your tears, for it will improve you." Her fingers ran through his hair. He--oh--fuck--he stared up at her--now his vision did swim with tears--but--ohh.
"Yes, mistress," he breathed. She smiled at that--perhaps she could hear the sincerity. Still: A collaring ceremony was meant to be... unpleasant.
She stood, looming over him, a hand on his head, and the girls came to her and lifted the dress. It was designed to be easily pulled aside to reveal her bare sex and buttocks. "You will spend her," said Marigold, dropping beside him. "While you work, you will have a very, very uncomfortable itch--but you will not address it. Mistress comes first."
He whimpered. She lay back on the bench, spreading her legs. He saw Virona draw a cream from a tin and lay it across her moist, ready sex.
At the same time, Marigold placed a smooth sapphire stone between the cheeks of his buttocks. He gave a yelp as the stone tingled and a flash of warmth turned into a boiling horrible spot of itching directly over his anus and on the walls of his cleft.
His eyes widened. He had to scratch it--he HAD to. He moaned. His hands were clasped behind him--but the jacket was strong and they were affixed to the small of his back--he couldn't reach his cleft. He shifted and got a hard spank from the paddle.
"Spend Mistress," ordered Marigold.
Sobbing, he came forward and pushed his lips against her sex. The cream filled his mouth with the taste and smell a backside--the rear of a woman working all day in a hot sun--the scent of body-odor and sweat--the horrible tang of long hours of unwashed skin.
He gasped--and he felt the women's fingers push his head gently forward. Oh! He nearly gagged--but, in misery and desperation, he got licking and sucking.
The itch savaged him as he worked. His cock felt inflated--terribly erect--leaking and crying out for attention--for release. His anus--his anus felt to be glowing with the unbearable need-to-be-scratched. He clenched his buttocks and He got a swift, smarting smack from the paddle.
He HAD to get relief--but he wouldn't get it until mistress spent.
Desperately, he formed his mouth around her clit, the terrible taste and smell filling his nostrils and mouth. The girls laughed--but did they have any idea how bad it was?? He moaned as he licked and sucked. Dame Listily murmured her pleasure--but she didn't seem anywhere near spending.
He swirled his tongue in frantic circles. He clenched his rear again. POW! He cried out into her sex. POW! POW! Oh!!!
Tears were flowing freely now. How would he manage this--oh--ohh--it was awful! He shifted his buttocks to the left and right, hoping against hope for some relief--but the itch was implacable in its assault. Nothing he did brought any mercy.
He sobbed wretchedly, still working--lick-lick-lick-suck-suck--oh, please--mistress--oh please! He tried licking around his mistress' clit--only grazing it with his tongue. The taste was wretched. He could imagine the buttocks of a woman--his mouth between them. The girls around him laughed and patted him--and spanked.
He paused--gasping for breath--exhausted--desperate to be scratched.
"Please--" he begged. His mistress sat up. She took his hair--not roughly--but firmly, moving his head back to look up at her. His face was covered with her juice. He was sure his eyes looked wet--defeated.
